Atlantis Is Waiting: A Collection of Drabbles
by Snea
Summary: Rowdyruffs & Powerpuffs. Life is never easy. Take a look and see their lives. Prophecies fufilled. Formerly titled Blood & Breathing, accompies Dancing to Find Nemo.
1. Life vs Death: 1

**_Life vs. Death:_** 1

**17. Blood**

_Blood._

It covered the ground and made her shirt sticky. It coated her throat in a salty, metallic tang that made her retch painfully.

She shouldn't have been there. It had gone straight through her throat. She'd felt it grind against the vertebrae and pierce the back of her neck as she gagged and struggled for breath.

_She should have been dead._

She'd looked down the length of steel protruding from her body into the self-satisfied smirk of the person – no, _creature_ – that killed her. Helplessly watched the thing grin and taunt her sisters as life dripped and trailed down the cold metal to hit the ground. As her vision darkened and her hands stilled from scrabbling at the sharp steel, her last conscious thought had been one of simmering defiance:

**_How dare she._**

And then she was back, retching and coughing blood as friendly hands seized her under the arms and hauled her up. Her hands hurt, her head pounded, and her knees throbbed. And the red substance still flowed and she was soaked in it. Tears streamed from her eyes, the sword no where in sight.

She should have died that day.

Now she'd only remember the blood.

_fin_


	2. Life vs Death: 2

**_Life vs. Death:_** 2

**10. Breathe Again**

Never have I been that scared. She faded from my mind like a light bulb going out. So suddenly it scared me how quickly I reacted. My brothers cried out for me as I shot from the barren wasteland we'd been scouring. I ignored the dark shadow that screamed for my return as its fury burned the sky.

She would not join me in this domain, not yet. She would live her life before she joined the souls subjected to my judgment. And as I breached the barrier that separated us, I felt my very essence split. Part of me continued on to her, another went off in a different direction in the same earnest.

And then I got there. The only clear thing I remember from those eight minutes was seeing her: pinned to the wall with a sword through her throat and blood down her front. Her sisters and Guardian held where they were by whisper spirits and her friends behind them struggling with each other.

She wasn't breathing. Her eyes were draining of color to the brilliant white of death.

And then she moved, fury etched into her face, eyes blazing pure silver as she grabbed the steel, broke it in half, and threw the hilt at the girl. She'd barely gotten the half in her throat out when she was backhanded viciously into the wall.

That was the last thing I remembered. She had just fallen to her knees when I saw red and felt the most carnal feeling of rage:

**Wrath.**

Pain did not faze me. I know this because when I finally returned to my senses at the first torrent of water, the cuts that littered my body were plentiful and deep. They didn't hurt, only bled sluggishly. A quick assessment told me that I was slashed deeply on my back. I tried to look over my shoulder and see the damage. Light flashed from the corner of my eye. Cold, merciless steel plunged toward me.

I dodged as a flash of pink shot past me to collide with the one who'd almost taken her. _Her!_ Where was she?! I whirled around to see her, lifelessly limp in the clutching arms of her friends, water from the nearby fire hydrant spraying over them like rain.

I was at her side in an instant, ignoring the continued fight behind me. She wasn't breathing.

"She stopped!" The girl cried, frantic now and again being held by the boy behind her. "She stopped breathing! She was fine and then she stopped!" The girl lost it then, dissolving into a mess of sobs and tears. The boy clutched her to his chest, her wet hair plastering itself itself to his soaking shirt. Her shoulders fell and lifted. _Breathing._

Again, I was angered. Angry that I took so long, angry at the one who'd done this, angry that she _still_ wasn't breathing. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her body to my chest as I sobbed, tears of anger dripping onto her shoulder. "Breathe, damn you!" I gripped her shoulders tighter. "Breathe! Just breathe! Please, Bubbles, just breathe." I cried freely now, holding her tighter.

Her chest rose in my arms and I stopped, disbelief coursing through my body. And then it rose again and I lowered her from my front to look at her face.

Her eyes, gorgeous, sky blue and framed by blond hair and a beautiful face, opened slowly. She smiled at me before closing them again, chest still rising and falling as she slept in my arms.

_Breathing again._

_fin_


	3. Asteroid Thoughts

**Asteroid Thoughts**

Bubbles sighed, depression gracing her features. She was 12 years old, single (unlike Blossom), and very bored with her life.

Blossom had been trough four boyfriends by the time their 12th birthday had rolled around, and Buttercup hadn't even wanted one. Bubbles on the other hand, did, but unlike her sisters, she knew who she wanted.

The problem was, she couldn't get him.

And he couldn't get her.

Blue-eyed and blond, he'd been her exact opposite, like yin and yang, exact yet different. They'd fought and she'd won, she and her sisters had won against him and his brothers. They'd terrorized the city and the only way to stop them had been to destroy them...

...or had it?

She was confused. Confused and extremely upset. Distress wasn't something she was used to either. It was one of the many emotions that she'd never had to deal with. She sighed and shifted to her side, curling into a ball.

Her movement caused clouds of fine, silver dust to drift into the cold space around her. It hung like a clinging fog above her as her tears made little ponds.

...love was a bitch...

_fin_


	4. From the Desk of Buttercup Utonium

**From the Desk of Buttercup Utonium**

A piece of paper floated over the table top.

**Bt: kay, I'm bored**

_Bb: Same_

Bl: y are we passing a note when we're at the same table?

**Cuz we can't talk?**

Good point.

_So what are we doing again in here?_

**Looking up stuff 4 the renaissance festival.**

_o. ok._

Could u 2 b any **more** obvious about this note?

_**Robin: good question, Bloss.**_

_How much longer are we in here?_

**Not long. 15 minutes**

_**U call that short?!**_

**No, I call it 'not long.'**

- - can we just do our work?

_N_

"Bubbles Utonium!" Bubbles jumped, stuffing the note under the library table.

"Yes, Mrs. Ballast?" she replied, voice shaking slightly.

"Would you kindly bring me that note?" By kindly she meant 'now.'

Sighing, Bubbles stood from the table and brought it to her. Mrs. Ballast glanced at it and then back at Bubbles. "You can sit. I need to speak to another" –she looked sternly at Buttercup– "Utonium. Buttercup, could you come here, please?" By that she meant 'come here now or face the wrath of my paycheck anger.'

Buttercup stood and walked up to her. Bubbles snickered as the passed and Buttercup glared at her. Mrs. Ballast held up the note.

"I believe this is yours." Buttercup shook her head. "Really? Would you look at the top please?" By which she meant 'read it now or fail.' Buttercup read...then she paled.

Thought process or Buttercup Utonium: Aw. Crap.

At the top of the stationary where the printed words: From the desk of Buttercup Utonium.

Yup. Detention was now a definite. Could it get any worse?

"Maybe I should call your guardian about this," Mrs. Ballast said thoughtfully.

Yeah...it could. Needless to say, Buttercup got to spend two "fun-filled" hours filing useless crap in the main office after school. Who knew paper cuts could be so fun?

'Stupid Renaissance festival.'

_fin_


	5. Trouble Lurking

**25. Trouble Lurking**

This was sometimes the hardest thing he'd ever have to do. Leave her like this when she would be so much safer in his arms. But he'd have to make due with it. He needed to get home and she needed to be with her host's family, no matter the danger night assumed.

Sighing, he turned to leave when a small creak at the door caught his attention. He turned, expecting to see the Elemental in the door. Instead, he found _her_. She hadn't changed much since the last time they'd _really_ met. Eons ago, it seemed to him.

Still light brown in color, sea foam green eyes flecked with bronze still present (and currently fading to an icy blue), the tall stature in so small of a height with the russet-black hair. An air of danger and power still hung over her in a thick veil, an obvious warning that she was not as weak as she looked. She was still the protector of protectors.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Protectorem. It is wonderful to finally see you again." She breathed deeply as he said her name and title. Like a fish finally thrown back into water.

"Protectorus. It is good to finally see _you_ again." Tears quickly rimmed her eyes as she looked at him gratefully. "You don't know how pleased I feel right now. Like I've finally proven to myself that I _can_ do my job. You've awakened, even if it is slight, and now you've made contact with Protectora. If I was to die tonight, I would be happy."

He grinned. "Do not make that assumption known to the world tonight, Protectorem. There is a danger lurking outside of these walls look for our kind and I do not want you to be its next target." He nodded to the sleeping girl. "Take care of her for me while I'm gone please?"

Protectorem scoffed. "Of course I will. It's my _job_." He chuckled and left through the window, tightly fastening it behind him. He looked out over the moon-bleached lawns of the neighborhood, looking for the darkness he knew would be there.

But it didn't show.

And that was so much worse.

_fin_


	6. Standing Still

**42. Standing Still**

A moment. Only one.

A beat. _The pulse._

Anxiety and tension.

Every time she stopped moving, the feeling of reality would settle down, making her remember: her day, life, things that had no right on the floor.

So she kept dancing. Toes pointed and legs extended as she moved around the room. The music flowed through the floor into her body, coaxing out movement. The beautiful movement that forced out the "then" and "soon" and focused on the "now." The only thing she was willing to focus on every day were the moments she moved.

The tension of the music became thicker, weighing down on her. She was no longer dancing alone. She danced with the air around her that pulsed like a living thing, enveloping her in a warm embrace as she closed her eyes and gave into the music.

She felt pressure assert itself at the base of her calf and the bend of her back as she lifted her leg. When she released the position, flowing snakelike into a short twirl, arms upraised, the pressure moved to her hands and waist. Coming down from her toes, she was swept up by a sense of déjà vu so suddenly that she stopped moving and assumed third position.

Dizzied, she moved to sit down, eyes firmly closed so she wouldn't fall, when the pressure that she _thought_ she'd imagined decidedly made itself known by shifting behind her. And there, she felt another body, lean and flexible as a dancer and taut in its desire to dance. With the smallest of smiles, Bubbles accepted the offer and moved, eyes closed, body loose, and emotions soaring.

Dancing brought the emotional release that standing still _never_ would.

_In a society that worships love, freedom and beauty, dance is sacred. It is a prayer for the future, a remembrance of the past and a joyful exclamation of thanks for the present. – Danica Shardae Cobriana, Tuuli Thea of Avians, Naga of Serpents; Hawksong by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes_

_fin_


End file.
